Worst Case Scenario
by Archilochus
Summary: Some days are good, some days are bad. Some days however threaten to plunge your very soul into the abyss! Like in Ch.5, when Freddie breaks down and reveals his true feelings to Sam. But seriously, what's the worst that could happen? One-shot collection.
1. Confession

**Confession**

_Sam was going to do it. She was going to confess her love to Freddie and face the consequences, no matter what. Besides, what's the worst that could happen?_

_**AN: This occurs before iSaved Your life**_

"Sam, you have to tell him!"

"No!"

"_Sam!"_

Sam was pacing back and forth across the iCarly studio. She had just told Carly Shay that she, Samantha Puckett, had a huge crush on Fredward Benson since the end of sixth grade. Her pent-up feelings had just been building and building. And after she and Freddie shared their first kiss, and Carly found out, and Sam saw her and Freddie dancing really slow at the Groovy Smoothie the other night, Sam was ready to snap. When Carly asked her half-an-hour ago why she was acting so weird lately, Sam tried desperately to play it cool. Carly then reminded her how they agreed not to keep secrets from each other, and everything came flooding out.

"I can't tell him Carly, he probably hates me!" Sam grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked it right off her scalp. She always pulled her hair when she was distressed.

"He doesn't hate you Sam," Carly soothed.

"Yes he does! I made his life miserable for the past four years. Why would he like me?" Sam viciously ripped out another clump of hair.

"Stop that!" Sam threw her hands up in the air.

"Okay!" Her eyes moved around the room for a bit. "So can I pull yours?"

"No!" Carly took a hold of Sam's shoulders and guided her over to the beanbag chairs. The two sat down in an exaggerated motion of exhaustion.

"I don't think Freddie hates you Sam," Carly said.

"You're just saying that." Sam was quiet for a bit. "I saw you two, at the Groovy Smoothie on the night after the dance." Carly's eyebrows rose. She hadn't been expecting this.

"Oh," she said. Sam kept eye-contact with Carly.

"Even if he doesn't 'hate' me, that still doesn't change the fact that he's in love with you." Carly shifted her focus away from her friend. She was visibly thinking.

"Maybe not." Sam thought she was hearing things.

"Huh?" Carly was still thinking, her gaze far away.

"I'm just saying that maybe he doesn't like me as much as he used to." Carly frowned. "After the dance, he seemed…funny."

"Funny?" The brunette shook her head.

"Yeah. I mean, when he asked if I wanted to dance, he seemed like normal Freddie. And I danced with him because the atmosphere seemed right and I didn't have any good reason to say no. But after we stopped, he got really strange. He hardly looked at me when we walked back home, and he seemed kind of distant. It was like he was conflicted about something."

Sam fidgeted in her seat. "Well, it's the first time you didn't reject him." Sam gestured with her hand. "Maybe he didn't know what to feel." The blonde let her hand fall by her side with a light thud. It had felt sort of good at first to get everything off of her chest, but now she just felt sad.

"No. He would have been nervous if that had happened. Freddie wasn't nervous Sam."

"Well–"

"–He was thinking about someone else."

"But–"

"–Come on Sam, you're the only one he's ever kissed. Who else could he have been thinking about?"

Sam sat quietly in her seat, gazing at the floor. She wanted to believe Carly, but she was afraid. She was afraid that if she did, and Carly was wrong, she might never get over the hurt. On her beanbag, Carly regarded her best friend with sympathy. Few people knew how vulnerable Sam Puckett really was. Letting out a sigh, Carly rose to her feet.

"Get up. You're going over to Freddie's apartment right now and you're going to tell him how you feel."

Sam's eyes widened in terror. "What – no! I can't go over right now…I…" Sam struggled to think of an excuse. She looked at her watch. "It's ten o'clock. He's probably watching the news. Oh well, guess it'll have to wait until tomorrow." Sam made to leave, but was blocked off by Carly.

"Freddie doesn't watch the ten o'clock news Sam, you know that. Now go on." Carly grabbed Sam and turned her around, so she was facing the exit to the studio. "We promised there would be no secrets between us. I really think Freddie might like you too, so now's your chance. _Go_."

"And if I refuse?" Carly shrugged. She released Sam and dug out her Pear Phone.

"Are we ordering out?" Sam said excitedly. Carly shot Sam a deadly look.

"Hello?"

"Hey Freddie. Listen, Sam's standing butt-naked in the iCarly studio, and she's feeling _really_ lonely. Do you think you can come talk to her?" Carly terminated the call and gave a jaw-dropped Sam her cutest smile.

"Later." Carly whizzed out the door and was gone. A second later, Freddie burst through the door, wearing a suit and carrying a box of chocolates. He skidded to a stop a few feet in front of Sam. His gaze went up and down her figure, and then he blushed.

"Hey," Freddie rubbed his neck and chuckled. "Carly…told me you were lonely." Freddie immediately scarfed down the entire box of chocolates and ripped off his suit, revealing normal clothes underneath. Sam could do little else but stare at him. A long and awkward silence ensued.

"So," Freddie said, rubbing his neck again. "Feeling better now?" Sam sighed. Carly was right; she had to do this, now or never.

"Look Freddie, I…" Sam paused. She needed to collect herself. "I wanted to talk to you."

"About what?" Sam's vision glazed over. She appeared very similar to the time before they kissed.

"You know how you once said, that when a girl constantly rips on a guy, it just means she has a crush on him."

"Yeah, why?" Freddie furrowed his eyebrows and smiled at the same time. Sam gazed at the floor. She threw her arms out to her sides and let them hit her legs before responding. Here goes nothing.

"You were right." Sam kept her head so Freddie couldn't see her face. She had a sudden urge to cry and was trying to fight it off.

"I see." A bad feeling filled Sam's stomach. That wasn't something someone said when they liked you back. Trying to maintain her composure, she looked up at Freddie.

"Look, I know you like Carly, but I…just wanted to tell you so…you know…you knew." Sam turned around with every intention of walking out of the studio.

"I don't like Carly anymore." Sam whipped back around.

"Huh?"

"I said I don't like Carly anymore."

"But…" Sam's face fell. "I see. But you don't like me, do you?"

"No, actually I like you a lot." A warm feeling welled up inside Sam. She couldn't help but laugh at the unexpected good news. "Unfortunately, we can't be together." Sam's warm feeling evaporated. It was another girl. It was another girl and she hadn't even seen it coming. Keeping a straight face became harder with every passing second. Mustering up the strength, Sam said:

"Wh-why?" Freddie's composure did not waver in the slightest.

"'Cause I'm an alien." Any emotion Sam felt promptly went out the window.

"WHAT?_"_

Freddie shrugged. "I'm an alien." Sam couldn't keep her mouth from hanging open. Of all the lousy excuses…

"YOU'RE AN _ALIEN_?" she screamed. Freddie blinked at her. In contrast to Sam, he was perfectly calm.

"Yes." Sam marched over to the beanbag she had sat on earlier and hurled it at Freddie. Freddie rolled his eyes and pulled out his laser blaster. Sam watched in astonishment as the beanbag exploded into smithereens, sending tiny plastic beans pelting in every direction.

"Look, I'm sorry you had to find out about it this way, but I couldn't tell you or Carly."

"What is going on here Freddie?" Sam was very, very scared right now.

"Oh, my name's not Freddie. It's Medveeva Cupooshniac."

"_Medveeva what?" _Sam sprinted over to the window and was about to fling herself out, when she saw that her way was blocked.

"Hey, my ride's here." In front of Sam, hovering outside the window was a large, silver flying saucer. A small hole formed in the bottom of the aircraft, which became filled with a green ethereal light. Sam said nothing as Freddie gently pushed his way past her.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye Sam. I need to go rule my home planet now. I've been traveling to different systems to learn more about life, so that I could become a better leader, but I think I've learned enough for the time being." With that, the beam of green light extended to the window, and Freddie (or rather Medveeva) was gone. Sam watched as the flying saucer rose higher and higher into the sky, until it disappeared. She stood there by the window for a very long time. Slowly, she walked away.

This was the last time she'd ever tell a boy she liked him.

**Disclaimer - I do not own iCarly, it characters, nor any other shows, characters, music, and/or movies that may be referenced.**

**AN: I wrote this one before iSaved Your Life, so that's why no mention is made of Carly and Freddie's brief relationship. 'Worst Case Scenario' will be collection of different stories, where some of our characters will wind up in rather unfortunate predicaments. These stories _will _stretch reality a bit, but I like this kind of thing and I hope you do too. My main inspiration is the anime rendition of 'School Rumble,' which I highly recommend. I'll try and update when I can.**


	2. Shower Singing

Sam sighed. She was going to miss Freddie. Even if he was an alien, he had still been one of her best friends for the past several years. She turned around from the window and was about to head out of the studio, when she heard the familiar whirring of a flying saucer. She spun on her heel to see a beam of green light. Freddie had returned.

"When you read fanfiction, make sure to take breaks, and don't start shipping wars, okay?"

* * *

**Shower Singing**

_It was innocent enough. Freddie just wanted to know whether Sam sang in the shower. He just needed to do a little field work, that's all. Besides, what's the worst that could happen?_

"I know _you_ sing in the shower Freddie."

Carly, Freddie, Gibby and Wendy were all walking down the hall, en route to the cafeteria. They had been talking about the new 'Open Mic' nights starting next Saturday at the Groovy Smoothie, and how Carly was planning on performing a couple of songs. The conversation eventually steered towards shower singing, of which Freddie was the current (albeit unwilling) subject.

"Yes, okay, I sing in the shower a little," Freddie admitted, trying not to blush. He wished Carly hadn't volunteered this information.

"It's no big deal Benson," Wendy consoled. "I think pretty much everyone does it." Carly and Gibby nodded.

"Yeah Freddie," Carly said. "I do it, Wendy does it, and you do it."

"And I yodel," Gibby added. The others pretended not to hear this.

"I wonder if Sam sings in the shower." Freddie looked at Wendy and snorted.

"Maybe to death metal."

"He's probably right," said Carly. "Sam doesn't seem the type. She's showered over at my place before, and I've never heard anything."

"That's because she doesn't," Freddie replied matter-of-factly.

"Well we don't know for sure. It's not like we ever tried listening on her or anything." Carly squinted at Freddie when she saw him shake his head. There didn't appear to be a doubt in the boy's mind. "Aw c'mon Freddie, aren't you in the least bit curious?"

"No. I think it's pretty obvious Sam wouldn't sing in the shower. Besides, why should I care anyway?"

* * *

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Freddie said. He was currently stuffed inside a linen closet on the second story of the Puckett residence. He had been waiting there in a very cramped position, surrounded by towels (some with rather unpleasant-looking stains) for over two hours. Although it didn't bother him earlier, by the time the last bell rang at Ridgeway, he _had_ to know.

It was a death-wish, plain and simple. If she so much as caught sight of him, Sam would permanently label him a perv and his social life would be demolished. Knowing his luck, Sam would catch him. But Freddie couldn't put his curiosity to rest. Ironically, hanging out with Sam over the past few years had rubbed off on Freddie and made him a much bolder boy than he used to be. Anyway, it wasn't like he wanted to see her naked or anything. He just wanted to know for sure whether she made any vocalizations while cleansing.

Freddie shifted his position slightly, hoping to resurrect his slumbering left leg. The shower was located down the hall, right next to Sam's bedroom and roughly twenty feet away from Freddie's closet. He wouldn't have to worry about anyone beside Sam, since roughly an hour ago Freddie heard Sam say 'see ya mom' and 'have fun on your date,' followed by the sound of Ms. Puckett exiting through the front door and turning on the ignition. This definitely made things a bit easier, especially if he had to make a hasty escape.

Freddie's right leg had nearly fallen asleep when he heard a door open. He listened closely. It seemed like that the sound had come from Sam's room. His guess was confirmed when he soon heard a second door close. Sam had walked a very short distance from her room, and the only two places with that short of a distance between them were Sam's bedroom and bathroom. Of course, this didn't mean she was necessarily going to take a shower, but Freddie remembered Carly telling him once that Sam took showers in the evening.

Freddie's ears perked up. At long last, he heard the squeak of a handle, followed by the thrumming of water. He couldn't believe his luck. Finally, his opportunity had come. He was going to put an end to this once-and-for-all.

As quietly as possible, Freddie slid open the closet door. Fortunately, a rug lined the hall that led to the bathroom, so his footfalls would be perfectly silent. Freddie took a tentative step forward, testing to make sure that the floor didn't squeak. It was quiet. He breathed a sigh of relief. After taking several deep breaths, he slowly made his way over.

Steam was starting to billow from under the crack of the bathroom door. The sound of running water was loud. Freddie heard the metallic scrape of a shower curtain being pulled open, then closed. Sam was good and distracted.

Reaching into his pocket, Freddie retrieved what appeared to be an ordinary pen. It was actually a disguised microphone, and was one of the first tech gadgets Freddie received as a child. He held onto it since then for sentimental reasons, but now it finally would have some use. He replaced the batteries before he came over, just to make sure it was working. Now all he needed was a quick test. Freddie fingered the 'record' button on his pen

"Testing, testing," he said in a low voice. He pressed the 'play' button, and heard his own words repeated clearly.

"Good. Now if I can hold this under the door, I just might be able to record her." Freddie took his footsteps one at a time, until he stood right outside the wooden bathroom door. He pressed the side of his head against it, straining to hear anything. A couple of times, he thought he might have heard a vowel or two, but he just couldn't tell for sure. He then crouched down on his knees, punched the 'record' button on his pen, and stuck it as far under the door as possible.

Twenty seconds later, Freddie withdrew his device and played back the audio. He listened as hard as he could, but yet again he couldn't be certain if what he heard was static or actual singing. Freddie ground his teeth. He knew he should just give up, turn around, and head straight home. He had a ton of homework due the next day, and if he wasn't home soon, his mom would have a fit. Why did he care so much about this anyway? What did the answer to this riddle matter in the grand scheme of things?

"No," Freddie whispered. He gripped his childhood pen with determination. "I've come this far, I can't quit now."

Every muscle in Freddie's body tensed. As quietly as humanly possible, Freddie twisted the knob to the bathroom door. He carefully eased the door open and took a small step inside. He spotted Sam's clothes lying on the sink. He nudged the 'record' button on his phone. He waited. Nothing. Just ten more seconds. Ten more seconds and he would go, no matter what. He clung fiercely to his pen, ready for anything. Five more seconds. Four. Three. Two…

Without warning the water stopped and the shower curtain was flung open.

"Oh man, I don't remember the last time I actually showered before a date."

Pam Puckett climbed out of the shower and took a half-step to the left when she stopped. Standing right in front of her was a (fully clothed) sixteen year-old boy, who for some reason was holding a strange-looking pen in his right hand. Pam took a noisy bite of the apple she had been eating and eyed Freddie calmly, absorbing the scene.

"Can you pass me that towel over there?" She pointed to a long white towel, which was hanging over a rack built into the wall on Freddie's right.

The boy couldn't move. Never…never…in his worst…

"What's the matter Freddie, never seen a woman before?"

"I-I-I-I-I-I-I–"

"–Want an apple?"

Whether it was instinct, morality, or just plain luck, Freddie somehow unglued his feet from the tile of the Puckett's bathroom and ran like a demon on steroids. Pam took another bite her fruit, still seemingly unfazed.

"Cute kid," she said, tossing her apple on the floor. "Wonder when he turns eighteen."

* * *

"I can't believe her," Sam said. She was walking down the hall with Carly from their first period biology class. "As soon as I left the house last night, my mom takes a nap in my bed, and then later wears my favorite outfit on her date with a local rabbi."

"So does she sing in the shower?" Carly asked.

"Nope. That's one thing we have in common."

**Disclaimer - I do not own iCarly, it characters, nor any other shows, characters, music, and/or movies that may be referenced.**


	3. Gibbies in the Springtime

Pam Puckett and Freddie Benson were in the bathroom, staring at one another. The boy still hadn't passed her the towel, and could only gape with his mouth hung wide open. Mrs. Puckett crossed her arms and leered.

"When you read fanfiction, make sure to take breaks, and don't start shipping wars, okay?"

"Yes Mrs. Puckett."

* * *

**Gibbies in the Springtime**

_It's that time of year again, and Gibby's looking for that next special lady. It's only natural, right? Besides, what's the worst that could happen?_

"First day of spring," Freddie said as he, Sam and Carly entered the halls of Ridgeway High.

"Yeah, and you know what that means," Sam muttered.

"That school's almost over, the weather's starting to get warmer, and nature's in full bloom?" Sam scowled at Carly.

"No, it means Gibby's on the prowl."

Once Sam had uttered these words, none other than Gibby himself strolled past the three friends. He was walking very slowly, exaggerating his steps, and checking out every female that went by. Like many others from the animal kingdom, Gibby sought to find himself a mate for the upcoming season.

* * *

"Sup Mrs. Benson." Marissa Benson was standing behind the counter in the kitchenette of her and Freddie's apartment, where she was reloading trays full of snacks. Although she wasn't fond of the idea, she finally relented and let Freddie throw a party in their home. After all, she didn't want him moving out on her again.

"Hello Gibby," she said, spreading crackers around the rim of one of her trays. "Are you having fun?"

"I am now."

Mrs. Benson stopped what she was doing and gave Gibby a wary stare.

"Come again?" Gibby drained the rest of his punch in one gulp. He crumpled up his cup and tossed it in the trash.

"You know, some men are intimidated by older women. I'm not."

"…I'm going to count to three."

"Freddie doesn't have to know."

"GIBBY!"

* * *

"Tch, you think you're uh…man enough to handle me Gibson?"

Jocelyn, the gargantuan senior who had for a brief time bullied Sam, was leering down at Gibby with crossed arms. Who did this punk think he was? Asking her out? A shrimp like him? No way!

"Oh I'm more than man enough to handle you," Gibby fired back. Jocelyn scoffed.

"Not in my book. You gotta be BIG to handle this." Jocelyn pounded a fist against her chest.

"Big?" Gibby said. "Baby I'm huge!" With that, Gibby ripped off his shirt. Jocelyn gasped.

"Oh my."

"That's right."

"Y-You're a man."

"So much _more_ than a man."

Jocelyn shielded her eyes.

"It's…too much. I'm…not ready." She went sprinting in the opposite direction.

* * *

Wendy let out a scream. She had just opened her closet in hope of finding an outfit she could wear for the day, and instead found a Gibby. Or rather Gibby's back end, which was only covered by a skimpy red speedo.

"Bow-chicka-wow-wow," Gibby said, waving his rear.

* * *

"You said that?"

"I said that."

"Oh Gibby," Ms. Briggs said with a chuckle. She and Gibby were sitting in her office, after school on a Wednesday. "I admit, you've matured much over the years." Gibby shrugged.

"That's how it is." He crossed his right ankle over his left knee. "You blink for a second, and they're all grown-up."

"Yes, I suppose." Ms. Briggs sighed contentedly. She folded her hands across her desk, regarding Gibby with a rare, warm smile. "Never thought I'd say it Gibby, but I think you're developing into a fine young man." Gibby's eyebrow rose.

"That a fact?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"_Yes_."

"Can I call you?"

"Detention!"

* * *

"Why...isn't...this...working?"

Gibby had walked uninvited into Shelby Marx's personal gym less than three minutes ago. Not only did the boy refuse to leave, but he actually interrupted her training session and began hitting on her. Shelby immediately attacked Gibby, striking him with all she had, but Gibby simply absorbed every blow like it was nothing.

Shelby dealt Gibby a roundhouse kick to the face, again to no avail.

"This is insane!" she screeched.

"No, this is the power of Gibby!" Gibby shot back.

* * *

"_That's_ it!" Sam smacked Gibby's cellphone out of his hands, wrestled him to the ground, and beat the living daylights out of him.

Although it didn't hurt (thanks to the 'power of Gibby'), Gibby went along with it, realizing that he had been defeated. He waited for what he felt was an appropriate amount of time, and slowly made his way on his hands and knees out of Sam's room. As he crawled out into the hallway, his path soon became blocked.

Pam Puckett peered down at the young man. The two stared at one another for some time. Mrs. Puckett crossed her arms.

"Sorry Gibster, but Benson's already got dibs on me."

* * *

"I'm sorry Gibby," Carly said. She patted Gibby on the back, hoping to bring some comfort. It was late at night, and the two were sitting on the couch in the living room of the Shay's loft.

"I don't understand," Gibby wailed. He wiped the tears from his eyes. "I tried everything."

"Well maybe that's the point. Maybe when you tried to impress all those girls, you forgot to be yourself."

"I even got rejected by Sam's mom!" Gibby exclaimed. Carly went a shade paler.

"Oh...well...yeah, that is pretty bad." Carly went silent for a moment, before she thought of something. "But wait, what about Tasha?"

"She died." Gibby said with a shrug. Gibby rubbed his cheeks one last time and got up off the couch. He sniffed.

"But I can't quit now. It's springtime and...nature beckons."

Carly rose off the couch so that she faced Gibby. She stared at her friend with sympathy.

"Is it really that important to you?" Gibby looked at Carly. A wheel began spinning in his brain. He noted the late hour, the fact that only a single light was on in the room, and that he and Carly were completely alone.

"Yes." Carly's eyes were bearing into Gibby's.

"All you want is a girlfriend for the spring?" The wheel spun a little faster.

"Yes."

"And Tasha's really dead...right?" The wheel sputtered to a stop.

"Uh, yeah, but why–"

"THEN C'MERE GIBBY!" Carly launched herself at Gibby and the two went crashing to the ground. Gibby could barely comprehend what was happening as Carly pinned him by his arms and legs. Something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

"Carly, what are you doing?"

"What I've wanted to do since third grade!" Carly spat. She savagely ripped off Gibby's shirt. To Gibby's horror, she then whipped out something from behind her back.

"What the–" Carly slammed a saddle on Gibby's stomach.

"Now whinny!"

"N-no."

"I said whinny!"

"I don't want to!"

"I SAID WHINNY!"

"I want my shirt back!"

Carly got off the saddle and threw it aside. She fell to the the floor, huffing and puffing, while Gibby hurtled himself towards the door. When he twisted the doorknob, he found that somehow, it had become locked from the outside. He whipped around to find Carly, who only grinned demonically at him.

"Rampu!"

And the light went out.

**Disclaimer - I do not own iCarly, its characters, nor any other shows, characters, music, and/or movies that may be referenced.**

**AN: Let that be a lesson all you womanizers, lol!  
**


	4. My Pants!

Freddie grins at the reader and lifts up a giant stainless steel cover. Underneath it, on a huge white platter, is Gibby, who is covered in marinara sauce and shredded cheese.

"Gibbeh! It's what's fo' dinnah!"

* * *

**My Pants**

_Sam has stolen Freddie's pants, and the poor boy has to go through the entire school day without them. But at least things can't get any worse, right? Besides, what's the worst that could happen?_

"Wow Freddie," Jessica said, her eyes traveling up and down the Benson boy's figure.

"Thanks Jess," Freddie replied. He smiled at her, as well as the rest of the large mob of girls that was currently surrounding him. Though Freddie was of the humbler sort, he couldn't help but feel a teeny stab of pride at all the females who were complimenting his appearance.

"So you got them from Tween Pants dot com?" asked Molly, a strawberry blonde.

"Sure did," Freddie said. He pulled out the fabric on the side of his pant-leg to emphasize.

"Oh my God you're so cool Freddie Benson!" Molly exclaimed, jumping up and down. "Only real men buy their pants from Tween Pants dot com!" Freddie's smile inverted.

"But they just started selling guys' pants."

"I know, that's what makes you a real man!" Molly said. Freddie had to scratch his head at this. It didn't entirely make sense to him, but he supposed there were still mysteries to the female mind he had yet to uncover.

"So when's the next episode of iCarly?" asked Vanessa.

"Are you going to make an appearance?" asked Julie.

"Can you show us your camera?" asked Jessica.

The girls' questions were cut off by the warning bell, which meant that classes would begin in five minutes. Freddie held up his hands to silence his audience.

"Okay ladies, I really have to get to class now." All four girls groaned in unison. Vanessa however took it one step further and latched herself around Freddie's right arm.

"Va_nessa_!" Julie squeaked. She stomped over to her friend and flicked her hard on the forehead. "We don't grab people!" Julie pried Vanessa from Freddie's arm. The four friends began walking down the hall, arguing in high-pitched voices amongst one another.

"Uh, see ya later," Freddie called after them. He immediately regretted doing this.

"Bye Freddie!" they all squealed.

"Call me," said Jessica.

"Text me," said Julie.

"Tweet me," said Molly.

"Email me," said Vanessa. The other three gave Vanessa withering glares.

"Email?" shouted one of the girls, and they were all quickly embroiled in another fierce argument.

Freddie shook his head as he opened his locker. He supposed he should have been happy, given all the feminine attention, but sometimes it wore on his nerves.

Especially considering they were first-graders.

Freddie was digging around inside his locker, trying to find his environmental science book for first period, when he felt a pair of strong arms encircle his stomach. Freddie stood up straight and sighed.

"Vanessa, you can't just grab me whenev–"

"MY PANTS!"

Freddie froze for a minute. That wasn't Vanessa's voice. He craned his neck to the left. There, a little above his waistline, was a familiar mane of bushy blond hair.

"Sam?" Freddie squeaked.

"MY PANTS!" Sam repeated. To Freddie's tremendous surprise, she knocked him down and started viciously removing his pants.

"Sam stop it!" Freddie cried. He struggled with all his might to free himself from Sam's clutches, but the blonde was simply too strong for him. When he tried to sit up, Sam pushed him by the chest and sent him back to the floor. She unsheathed one leg and continued working on the other, screaming whenever Freddie tried to say anything. She had a deranged, almost murderous look about her, which Freddie found very disturbing.

Freddie was just about to give up when he saw Gibby, who was licking a strawberry lollipop, walk by.

"Gibby!" Freddie hollered. He tried desperately to pluck Sam's fingers from his jeans. "Gibby help!"

Gibby stopped licking his lolly and looked at Freddie. His eyes quickly bulged.

"Oh my God." Gibby pointed at Freddie. "Are those from Tween pants dot com?"

"That's not the issue!" Freddie screeched. He gestured towards the rampaging blonde who was assaulting him. "_That's_ the issue!"

"Don't be a whiner Benson," Gibby said. He resumed licking his lolly "She's just playing around."

"No she's not!" Freddie and Sam rolled around on the floor. "Ow!"

"MY PANTS!" With one last, almighty heave, Sam finally liberated Freddie's beleaguered pants. To Freddie's horror, she then began putting them on.

"What are you doing?"

Once she had her feet through the legs, Sam pulled Freddie's jeans up to her hips, zipped up the fly, and did the button. She then stomped away, resembling an animal that had just successfully defended its territory. Sam disappeared down the hallway without another word.

"Aww, I think she likes you," Gibby said.

* * *

Understandably, his run-in with Sam put Freddie in a very bad mood. As the day wore on, his disposition would only worsen.

"Freddie Benson, where are your pants?" Mr. Henning asked. Freddie had just entered three minutes late to his first period environmental science class. Everyone else was already in their seats, and it was quite obvious from this vantage point that Freddie was in fact not wearing any pants.

"Oh I don't know," Freddie said in a harsh, sarcastic voice. He walked past Gibby, who was still licking his lollipop. Freddie suddenly smacked it out of Gibby's hand. "Maybe somebody STOLE THEM!"

"Now who would steal a pair of pants?" Mr. Henning chuckled. Freddie's gaze immediately shot across the room. He spotted Carly, and next to Carly was Sam, who was leering at Freddie's orange boxers with delight.

"Why don't you ask Sam?" Freddie shot a finger at said person.

"Oh come on Freddie, Sam didn't steal your pants," Carly said. Sam meanwhile was pounding the tabletop in silent laughter.

"YES SHE DID!"

"Alright Mr. Benson, that's enough," Mr. Henning said. "I don't like yelling in my class, and I don't appreciate it when students are inappropriately dressed."

"But Sam stole my pants, I swear!" Freddie looked at Gibby. "Gibby was there. Gibby, tell them what happened."

"Calm down Freddie," Gibby said. "Sam didn't take your pants."

"Yes she – what are you talking about, you were there!"

"Mr. Benson, I want you to leave this class, and I don't want you to return until you put on some pants."

Freddie pushed Gibby off his stool and stormed out of the room.

* * *

"Alright everyone, I want you to put your notes away, it's time for a pop quiz." All the students in Miss Felter's third period composition class placed their items underneath their desks as their teacher walked down the first row and handed several sheets for them to pass down.

Freddie's blood pressure was steadily rising. Mr. Henning wouldn't let him back in the science lab, and he was kicked out of his American history class when he had been discovered pantsless as well. So far Miss Felter hadn't spoken up, and he hoped that the quiz could get his mind on other things.

"Here's one for you, here's one for you, and..." Miss Felter halted when she arrived at Freddie's desk. "Mr. Benson, is there a problem?"

"No, why would you ask me that Miss Felter?" Freddie said through gritted teeth.

"Mr. Benson, I can't give you a quiz unless you're wearing pants."

"Why not?" Freddie whined. "You can barely tell when I'm sitting in the desk."

"Mr. Henning told me there was a pantsless boy running around school today. Look, if the other students see the way you're dressed, it could distract them and hinder their performance. Now don't you have an extra pair in your locker?"

Freddie shook his head.

"Why not?" Freddie threw his hands up in the air.

"Do _you_ keep an extra pair lying around?" he shot back. Miss Felter sighed.

"Does anyone have an extra pair of pants Freddie Benson can borrow?" she asked, as though she doubted anyone would.

"No way, I'm not giving my pants to Benson!" shouted a boy in the back of the room.

"Well I'm sorry Mr. Benson," Miss Felter said. "But under the circumstances I'm going to have to ask you to leave.

* * *

"Next," the lunch lady said. Freddie slammed his lunch tray down on the counter. He had been thrown out of every class today thus far, and every time he had confronted Sam she just laughed at him and pretended like the whole thing never happened. The worst part was that no one, neither Carly, Gibby, or any of his friends or anyone else that had been close by, took him seriously. No one believed that Sam stole his pants. And every teacher seemed to think that he just refused to wear any out of sheer rebelliousness.

"What's wrong sweetie?" the lunch lady asked. She eyed Freddie sympathetically. "Having a bad day?"

"The worst," Freddie groaned. "Sam Puckett stole my pants, and now no one believes me and everyone is giving me a hard time." He handed her his money.

"You say you're not wearing any pants?" Freddie rolled his eyes.

"Yes, can you just give me my change, I'm really hungry." The lunch lady pushed Freddie's hand away.

"I'm sorry baby, but if you're not wearing any pants I can't let you make a purchase."

"Gibby buys his lunch shirtless everyday!" Freddie went to grab his tray, but the lunch lady moved it out of his reach. "GIVE ME MY _LUNCH_!"

"I'm going to have to ask you to keep your voice down."

"C'mon Benson, you're holding up the line." Several of Freddie's classmates were waiting behind him, and growing irritated.

"OH YEAH? WELL WATCH THIS!" Before the lunch lady could react, Freddie snatched his lunch tray and began cramming as much food into his mouth as quickly as possible. He was making very unpleasant noises and creating quite a mess.

"Security!"

Two tall, beefy school security guards grabbed Freddie by the arms. Freddie clung onto his lunch tray, still determined to finish his meal, but one of the guards took it.

"Hey, I'm not done yet!"

Lifting him up, they dragged Freddie away.

* * *

Freddie was shivering on a chair in front of a computer, in the library. It was the only place he was allowed to stay inside the school building. Under normal circumstances, he would have spent the afternoon in Principal Franklin's office, however Principal Franklin found Freddie's pantlessness very disturbing, and suggested that the boy spend the rest of the day away from him in the library, under supervision. Sometime after this, the heating broke down inside the Ridgeway school complex, and now everyone in the building were freezing their butts off. Given Freddie's current state of dress, this held true especially for him.

Freddie looked over his shoulder toward the librarian, who was quietly working at her desk and occasionally observing him. He opened the Schneider browser on his computer and logged onto SplashFace. He didn't care if the librarian caught him. He didn't care about anything anymore.

A video on hard drive partitioning was loading on SplashFace. Freddie thought it looked interesting. Before it played however, an advertisement came up.

"How do you think you'd look in a...pair of these," the announcer said. An image of a cool-looking teenage boy wearing blue jeans appeared. "Buy blue jeans now from Tween Pants dot com. Real jeans, for real men."

Freddie clicked out of the video. He saw that the same one was posted under another username. He clicked on it, hoping he'd get a different commercial.

"So, you want to know how to attract the ladies?" A sexy looking blonde with a sultry voice said. "Why, it's with a big old pair of pants." The woman turned around and began petting a cartoonishly large pair of khakis.

Freddie clicked out of this video too. He decided to select the 'surprise' feature on SplashFace, which directed the user to a randomly selected video.

"_Pants on the ground, _

_Pants on the ground, _

_Lookin' like a _fool_ with yo pants on the_–"

Freddie pounded the power button to the computer and held it until the machine whirred off.

"I've had it!" he yelled. His rage had been building and building all day, and now finally, it reached its climax. He leapt out of the chair and marched past the librarian, resolved on settling the matter once-and-for-all.

* * *

Carly and Sam were sitting in their algebra class, listening to their teacher lecture about binomials, when a very sweaty and red-faced Freddie barged in through the door. His focus flew straight to Sam.

"Give me my pants Sam!" he yelled. She remained completely unperturbed, which only made Freddie angrier.

"Easy there big boy, you don't want to get in anymore trouble today," she replied.

"Freddie, calm down!" Carly urged. But not even Carly could placate Freddie.

"No! I'm not calming down until she admits she took my pants!" Freddie flung a finger at Sam. The blonde gazed at Freddie reproachfully.

"I didn't steal your pants dipthong!"

"Mr. Benson, don't you belong in the library?" the algebra teacher said. Freddie took deep breaths in and out, struggling to control himself. His eyes were slits as he stared down Sam.

"If you deny that stole my pants one more time..."

"Didn't do it."

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

What happened next soon become stuff of Ridgeway legend. Freddie charged at Sam and tackled her out of her desk. The other students were thunderstruck as they watched Freddie yank and pull and tug on Sam's (or apparently his) jeans. The blonde was so taken off-guard, she couldn't fight back.

"HOW DO YOU LIKE IT, HUH?" Sam was finally getting her bearings back, but Freddie had her in such a position that she couldn't make any effective movements.

"Freddie, no!" Carly screamed.

"GIVE ME MY PANTS PUCKETT!" Freddie dug his feet into the ground and pulled upwards as hard as he could. Although Sam struggled against him, Freddie's rage had made him the stronger, and with a final grunt of exertion, he yanked them right off.

"Yeah!" Freddie was gripping his jeans victoriously. He pumped a fist into the air and looked at the other students. "Yeah!" he told them. "That'll teach you all a lesson! Don't mess with Freddie Benson, 'cause he fights back."

"Uhh, Freddie..."

Laughing to himself, Freddie sat down on the ground and slung on his jeans. He couldn't wait to finally have them on again. He frowned however when he found that the jeans wouldn't go all the way up.

"What the?" Freddie rose to his feet, tugging on the jeans as hard as he could. They wouldn't go past his hips. "Why won't they fit?"

Carly approached Freddie and gently placed her hands on his shoulders. With the kindest tone possible, she said:

"Freddie, those aren't your pants."

For the first time in that classroom, Freddie had gone silent. He held up the jeans he had ripped off Sam's butt and inspected them more closely. Although the stitchwork and color were the same as his, and obviously from Tween Pants dot com, the style was different and they were noticeably smaller than the ones he had. Freddie dropped the jeans, feeling thoroughly confused.

"Jeez Benson!" One of the other students had spoken up. "You just took off a girl's pants!"

"I – she –"

"Holy crap, Benson stole Puckett's pants. In the middle of class!"

Freddie looked over at Sam, who was lying on the floor and peering up innocently at him. She had on a pair of boxers which said 'I heart Freddie' across the front. Freddie started losing the feeling in his brain.

"Yeah, I saw him showing off his old pants to a bunch of first-graders earlier. First-graders! The guy's a sicko."

"Wait a minute!" Freddie shouted. The chattering instantly stopped. The other students instinctively clutched their leg-wear.

"This doesn't prove anything!" Freddie said. "I saw her take my pants this morning so it's a fact! She could have easily just stolen them and then hidden them away so no one could find them! They could be in her locker. Or in the dumpster. Or in the baseball field. And..." Freddie jabbed a violent finger at Sam's boxers. "And _WHEN _did she get those?"

"Pants thief!" cried someone.

Freddie was eventually hauled away by the security guards once again, and wound up back in Franklin's office.

* * *

"Well, they don't usually bring them to me, but Principal Franklin has decided that I should determine your punishment." Mr. Howard was sitting across from Freddie in the Principal's office. Principal Franklin had nervously made up an excuse so he could leave, and put Mr. Howard in his stead.

"I didn't do anything," Freddie said. "Sam stole my pants and hid them somewhere. I just haven't found them yet."

"They searched the whole school and didn't find anything Benson."

"That's just because they haven't found them yet. It doesn't mean it didn't happen."

"Look Freddie, I want to help you." Mr. Howard leaned over the desk so he could be closer to Freddie. He checked the area around them, as if to make sure no one else was watching. "I used to have a similar problem when I was your age."

Freddie's eyebrows perked up.

"Really?"

"Yes." Mr. Howard hesitated before withdrawing a piece of paper. "Look, I really shouldn't give you this since you're a student and you're not eighteen yet, but..." Mr. Howard pushed the paper towards Freddie. "If you really like pants, there's this website. You can watch videos anonymously."

"You're sick man!" Freddie suddenly shouted. He saw what was on the paper and ripped it to shreds. He stormed out of the office.

"Freddie, there's nothing to be ashamed of. Eating your pants is a beautiful thing."

* * *

Over at the Groovy Smoothie, an out-of-towner walked through the door. She made her way toward the register and propped her arms on the counter. It was a few seconds before T-bo eventually noticed her.

"Hey, I know you," T-bo said.

"Aw, thanks T-bo," Melanie said. "One Strawberry Splat?"

"Coming right up. That'll be three twenty-nine."

Melanie reached into her new pair of blue jeans and fished out a five. After T-bo gave her the change, he turned around to gather the ingredients. Melanie watched him carefully, her eyes sliding down to his legs. She smiled.

"_Love_ your pants."

* * *

Someone was knocking on Freddie's apartment door. It was late at night and Mrs. Benson was still at work. Freddie trudged over to see what all the commotion was about. He should have been asleep, but due to the events that had transpired over the course of the day, this was impossible.

Freddie opened the door and found Sam standing there, sheepishly gazing back at him.

"What do you want Sam?" Freddie still thought that Sam had stolen his jeans. To his surprise, the blonde blushed.

"Uh...would you mind taking off my pants again. I...kinda liked it."

**Disclaimer - I do not own iCarly, its characters, nor any other shows, characters, music, and/or movies that may be referenced.**


	5. Confession 2

Sam yanks on Freddie's pantleg with all her might. She is currently sitting on top of the boy, who in turn is lying on his stomach. The pair screams, one in frenzy, the other in pain, as Sam tries to rip Freddie's pants off his lower limbs. Suddenly, the battle stops. The two stare at the reader.

"When you read fanfiction," Freddie begins,

"Make sure to take breaks, and don't start shipping wars, okay?" Sam finishes.

* * *

**Confession #2**

_Freddie wanted to confess his feelings, but gets stood up by Sam. When a certain someone shows up at the last minute however, will he still go through with it? Besides, what's the worst that could happen?_

Freddie was sitting by himself at the table, his chin resting between his palms. Sighing, he dug a hand into his pocket and pulled out his cell-phone. _9:35pm_. The little icon that appeared on his screen whenever he got a new message had yet to be seen_. _He hastily sent Sam another text. Once his cell was back in his jeans, he reassumed his previous position.

"Still waiting on your friend?" T-bo asked from the counter. Freddie laughed bitterly. He began tapping the tabletop with his fingers.

"Yep," he replied. "Nothing better to do on a Friday night than wait over an hour for my _friend_ to show up." Freddie grabbed the half-finished smoothie that lay to his right. He took a deep draught, despite the fact that it no longer bode any taste. At this point, everything had long since lost its flavor.

"We're talking about the blonde one, right? The one you always fight with?"

"That's the one," Freddie said. He let out a pained groan, his forehead hitting the table with a heavy thud. T-bo observed the depressed teen with sympathy. Puberty was no cakewalk, that was for sure. He remembered how fragile his own heart was back then.

"Well you still got almost a half-an-hour until we close. Maybe something will come up." As if on cue, T-bo caught sight of a figure approaching the front entrance. A familiar figure with blond hair and blue eyes.

"Well look who's here," Freddie heard T-bo say, followed by the sound of the door opening. Freddie straightened in his seat. His heart was hammering. "Listen, you better go talk to him. He's pretty upset."

Though he wanted to, out of a mixture of utter terror and red-hot anger, Freddie refused to turn around. He instead closed his eyes as he listened to the familiar footsteps of Sam Puckett walking toward him. When they finally stopped, he opened his eyes. Though he could barely see her, he could make out the blond hair from his periphery. Freddie echoed his bitter laugh from before.

"Nice of you to show up," he growled. Not knowing what else to do, Freddie snatched his smoothie and pounded down what remained. He then flung the cup as hard as he could across the room. It collided with another table, the lid bursting off and the little remnant Freddie's straw had not quite reached spattering onto the floor.

"DON'T WORRY T-BO I'LL CLEAN IT UP MYSELF!" Freddie vaulted off his chair and began to pace around in a blind rage.

"I bet you have no idea why I even asked you here in the first place, do you?" Freddie waited, but Sam made no response. "God you are unbelievable, you know that? You don't return my calls, you don't return my texts, Carly conveniently has no idea where you are, and then, out of the blue, you just show up! _Un_believable!"

Freddie ran a hand through his hair. He snorted.

"You know, everyone knows about it except you. Carly, Spencer...even Gibby's known it for months! It's staring you straight in the face and you can't even see it." Freddie paused. "Look, I admit I was a little slow on the uptake too, but at least I tried doing something about it." He chuckled yet again, then continued his monologue in a more subdued voice.

"We're not kids anymore. This whole pretending to hate each other thing just doesn't work the way it used to. I think we both know we don't really hate each other." Freddie swallowed. He could feel the tip of his deeper emotions starting to emerge.

"Do – Do you even realize what's happened? I'm in love with you, okay? God, I can't believe I'm saying this but after all these years I'm in love with you you little blonde demon!" Tears were gushing out of Freddie's eyes now. His voice cracked as he went on. "You want to know how I realized it? I was here, _here_ of all places, and I was dancing with Carly and all of a sudden I couldn't stop thinking about how it wasn't all I thought it would be. And later, after I saved Carly's life and she came into my room and started kissing me, the whole time I was thinking about you, okay? I was thinking about you!" Freddie had to fight to keep going. It hurt. His whole throat throbbed and panged, but he had to keep going. He heard Sam's soft sniffles mingle with his own.

"That's why I invited you here. I – I just wanted to tell you that." Freddie let out a heavy sigh. His chest felt like it weighed a million tons. "There, I said it. I...I'm done." With his head to the floor, Freddie stuffed his hands in his pockets and proceeded to walk away.

"Y-You think I don't care?" Freddie stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around to find a weepy-eyed Nevel peering mournfully at him.

"I _do_," Nevel sobbed, before throwing his arms around Freddie and burying his face in his chest. Every form of human emotion slowly drained away from Freddie. "I'm so sorry Freddie Benson, I had no idea! When I first hit puberty, I started going through changes and I thought I liked Carly too. But lately I've been going through even _more_ changes, and now I just don't know anymore!"

Nevel bawled his eyes out on Freddie's shirt. While this was going on, the Benson boy felt a distinct buzzing in his pocket. Not knowing who he was or what he was doing, Freddie withdrew his phone and held it above Nevel's head, so he could see the screen.

_'Dear Fredachu. You said meet on seventeenth. Today's the sixteenth. Quit texting me already and get a freaking calendar!'_

From his position behind the counter, T-bo wiped a tear from his own eye. _Well, I don't know what's going on__, but I'd say my work here is done._

**Disclaimer - I do not own iCarly, its characters, nor any other shows, characters, music, and/or movies that may be referenced.**

**AN: Okay, a bit off-topic, but would anyone be interested in a Halloween story? As in a (hopefully) genuinely scary one?  
**


End file.
